Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)(74)

Waiting for us is a tall African American soldier, maybe in his early thirties, with dark, tired eyes that look like they haven’t seen a lot of sleep lately. He’s wearing sandy-colored camouflage and heavy boots and has an M-16 in his hands. He tells us his name is Jackson, but I can’t be certain if that’s his first or last.

Calvin wheels Governor Bachman forward.

“Are you authorized to sign for this delivery?” Calvin asks.

“Are you from White Tower? What happened to Spangler?”

“He’s pursuing other opportunities,” Calvin says. “Allow me to introduce you to former New York State governor and now acting CEO of White Tower Pauline Bachman. If you would be so kind as to sign this acceptance form, we can transfer ownership to you.”

He hands Jackson the tablet, but the soldier doesn’t take it. Instead, he shoots Calvin a dismissive look that sours even more on its way to Bachman.

“These are babies,” he says, gesturing to my team.

“You’re mistaken,” Calvin says, pushing the tablet at Jackson again. “These are thirty-three human-Alpha hybrids who can breathe underwater. They are trained in combat and equipped with fully functioning Oracles.”

“What?” Jackson balks.

Calvin reaches over and snatches Tess by the wrist, waving her glove in front of Jackson.

“The devices that allow them to control water, sir. They are also armed with handguns and ammunition. Ms. Bachman is so pleased with the relationship that White Tower has with the U.S. military, she is also throwing in four full-blooded Alphas, two Tritons, and two Sirena at no extra charge. We appreciate your patronage. All you need to do is sign the screen with your finger.”

Jackson studies us once more, and looks confused and irritated by this unwelcome surprise. He sees what I’ve seen all along. We’re a bunch of children sent to war. He lifts his radio to his mouth and walks a few yards away, telling someone more important than himself what White Tower has tried to dump in his lap. After a moment, he returns. I can also see he has no choice. He signs Bachman’s tablet.

As he finishes, Calvin steps forward with a metal box and places it on the ground at Jackson’s feet.

“This is a portable EMP. It’s set on a timer right now that will shut off in fifteen minutes. Only then will their weapons activate.”

“Long enough for you to get far, far away from me,” I say.

Bachman locks her eyes on mine. She wears what might be an obviously triumphant smile if her features weren’t so mangled.

“Fourteen minutes, Governor,” I whisper to her. “And then I can throw another battleship at you.”

She blanches, then gestures for Calvin to wheel her back to the bus. It’s heartbreaking, but she won. I’m here with the kids in the most dangerous town on earth, and she gets to go back to her mad scientists’ lab. She still has the parents and the Alpha and the Lirs. She’s still the boss. Doyle was right. White Tower replaced Spangler with someone worse.

“I’m coming back for you, Governor!” I shout to her.

Neither Calvin nor Bachman acknowledges my threat. They get on the bus with the rest of their White Tower guards, and soon they are gone.

“We’re going to the beach!” Jackson shouts in a thick southern drawl I didn’t notice until now. “Keep your eyes open. Sea monsters are not the only problem we have around here. There are still a handful of locals living in the demilitarized zone. They’re die-hards who would rather face the risk of being eaten by Rusalka than leave their homes. They are heavily armed and can get violent if they feel threatened. If we encounter one, please let me handle it. You should also keep an eye out for stray dogs. Packs of them wander the streets, and they’re hungry. Most of them aren’t very nice. But our biggest concern at this moment is the roamers.”

“Roamers?” Riley asks.

“The creatures sent a wave at us this morning. When that happens, you can bet a few of them are in it. They get behind our fortifications and cause trouble. They pop up everywhere.”

I look around and then to my mother and father.

“We’re not all Alpha,” I say. “My father is injured, and we’ve got people here who aren’t trained to fight. Is there a safe place they should go?”

“Command wants everyone, so everyone is coming. Do your best to keep up,” he says sympathetically.

“Mom, help Dad, and Dad, you let her,” I scold. “Bex—”

“She will be my responsibility,” Arcade says, stepping forward.

“Thank you,” I say.

She shrugs.

I grab Chloe by the hand. “You’re with me.”

“All right, let’s move—” Jackson’s voice is drowned by gunfire nearby and what sounds like a shrieking.

“Rusalka!” Fathom shouts.

The children reach into their pockets and remove their handguns. They load them quickly and then grab the free hand of someone smaller. They’re calm. Doyle did a good job with them.

“Run!” Jackson commands, and he takes off at a sprint, pointing his rifle down every intersection we pass. At one street corner, I see a Rusalka running in our direction, snarling and growling like a lion. Jackson fires again and again, going through two or three dozen rounds. Finally, Georgia joins the firefight and the creature falls to the ground dead.